Nothing
by Wotcher-Tonks
Summary: Her name echoed in his mind, expanded in his soul, filled the room and grew until the universe was nothing but the sound of her name and its dismal echo. Sirius/Lily for the Random Characters Challenge.


Written for the Random Characters Challenge on HPFC. I got Sirius and Lily. This is quite possibly the angstiest thing I have ever written. :D

* * *

**Nothing**

Sirius paced around the little room he rented in an Order supporter's inn.

His eyes alighted on a lamp. He hated that lamp.

So he picked it up, strong with emotion, and heaved it at the stone wall.

The lamp shattered into a million garish pieces.

With his heightened senses, heightened by the exquisite torture he was in, he heard footsteps on the small landing outside his door.

They stopped immediately at his door. Somehow he heard the minute whisper of a cloak as the elderly inn owner raised his fist, shaking with age and weariness at life, to knock.

Sirius wanted no pity, and he clarified that point by throwing the lamp's matching counterpart at the wall as well.

The old man wheezed a sigh, and unclenching his fist with difficulty, he began his labored descent down the stairs.

It was all over.

Life meant nothing, so Sirius threw his parchment away, snapped his quills in half, and tossed every ink bottle he owned at the wall.

Beauty meant nothing, so he threw his comb and razor away, broke his mirror, and slashed the little painting that hung on the ink-splattered wall.

Love meant nothing. But there was nothing to evidence his love.

She was dead, and he knew with a numb certainty that he would never see her again. Not in this lifetime, and not when he was burning in hell for betraying his friends.

Friendship meant nothing. James was dead, and no matter how many possessions Sirius broke, he wasn't coming back. Peter, that little bastard, well, he wouldn't live too long once Sirius got to him. And Remus. Sirius knew how Remus only ever saw the good in people. Remus probably thought Sirius was responsible for this… this _catastrophe_. It couldn't possibly have been timid, pudgy Peter who sold out the Potters, could it?

It had to be Sirius, the capricious Black sheep, who had already turned his back on one family. So why wouldn't Remus suspect Sirius?

Loyalty meant nothing. So Sirius broke his window. The clear glass sparkled in the dawn light, sparkled among the vivid chunks of glass from the lamps.

A green piece caught his eye. It matched her eyes exactly. So he picked it up.

It was emerald, like her eyes.

Colors meant nothing, because her eyes would never sparkle again.

He clenched his fist, and the jagged glass cut his hand. He didn't really care about the pain. What was a simple _wound_ to him now, as he burned and froze simultaneously in guilt and despair?

Pain meant nothing. How could it?

Misery loves company, and pain had already settled down in his soul for a long stay.

Lily. Lily. Lily.

Her name echoed in his mind, expanded in his soul, filled the room and grew until the universe was nothing but the sound of her name and its dismal echo.

It was ceaseless!

He screamed. The Cruciatus had nothing, nothing on the torment he was in.

He screamed and screamed, but it did nothing to relieve the pressure, the suffocating presence of her name.

Lily. Lily. Lily.

He had loved her. No!

He loved her, and he always would, because even if he forgot who he was, forgot the world, he would remember her.

The knowledge of that settled into his soul with the other occupants, misery and pain.

It was his curse, and it would be his curse, and it would always be his curse, to love her with every wretched molecule of his damned heart.

He had loved her before James, and he would love her longer, and when he was burning in hell, his punishment would be to watch her in eternal bliss with James.

His best friend.

How many ways had he betrayed James in his heart?

He loved James' wife. He convinced them to trust Peter. The list paraded in his mind, over and over, with her name always at the front.

He broke everything in that miserable room. Who cared about the fact that it would all repair with a flick of a wand?

A flick of a wand killed his best friend. A flick of a wand killed his only love.

Lily. Lily. Lily.

And no magic in the world could repair that, repair him, repair his screwed-up existence.

Nothing meant anything anymore.


End file.
